


L'admiration

by Al_D_Baran



Series: aphfrweek2015 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Kingdom of the Franks, aphfrweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2/7. He is a Frank and he is free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'admiration

**Author's Note:**

> I kept Francis’ name as Francis, written Franceis (as it would be then i guess), but it will change later. This is around 800, with Charlemagne, one of France’s most well-known leader. Franks, in fact, have a name that can mean freeman. Hence, Francis’ name refers to freedom a little. Anyway, good reading. You may realize I have no fucking idea whatsoever of what I’m doing. Next one will have nsfw content. As for now, be wary of PTSD mentions.

           Charles is a tall man—always was, ever since they met. Towering above most men at seven feet tall, the man is broad-shouldered, shining with the strength of a King even as a prince. With old age nothing has changed. If his hair has turned to white and grey, there is still something impressive about him. He carries himself with the grace of a King, everywhere.

The boy follows him anywhere he goes, as it is expected of a nation. But like an orphaned child, it is more of a human need, yet eyes filled with childish wonder for the immense man. The great Charlemagne has always shown a paternal care for his people, and it is not different for Franceis. Ever since he was even just a prince and not the amazing conqueror he is now, Charles picked his tiny country up to place him onto his shoulders. Franceis never fears he’s going to fall; after all, the man has never let him down.

Even before he had his own children, Charles treated him with gentleness, dining with him as he did now with his own sons. Franceis, even if now is left a few seats away, is still more than happy to be close to the King, who made his nation a great one, the most powerful of Europe. A gentle giant, the man, even covered by the iron of his armour, retains his compassion. For an instant, with him, Franceis could have thought the new God was a real one; he has seen many gods pass, many immortals die themselves to truly believe, but he prays nonetheless, because Charles does it.

Even sitting next to the Iron Man, as a tiny page holding onto a giant’s waist, it is almost hard to believe this man, barely hours ago, back at the camp, in their tent, treated him like his own young son, picking him off the ground with careful movements. There is such a difference between the great worrier of the battlefield and the man of their intimacy that, sometimes, Franceis is convinced the man he rides next to might be an imposter. How could he be so different? Franceis is hundreds of years older and yet, each times he sets foot on a battlefield, still feels the same gut-wrenching fear as the first time. Somehow, he still remembers the very first time he’s seen war, he remembers Alesia and Gergovia, burned behind his eyelids with fire and blood.

Charles is the first King he’s met who seemed to understand. He is fearless on the battlefield, but the King has kneeled before him, allowed him time. Franceis still fears battlefields, panic rising inside him each time, but it isn’t the panic-filled nightmares and flashbacks of the sieges he’s suffered. After all, he was a child then, and he is still one. He doesn’t dream he’s been enslaved so much anymore. Charles even reminded him he has a new name now, that he is Franceis.

He is a Frank now; he is  _free_.

And it feels so good to be free. He is his own country, not a colony. Franceis feels like his own person. Not a gold-crowned, precious trophy of an Empire, he is now an Empire of his own. Of course, later, Franceis will understand that this is the same war, but his wise King, seeing how much battles troubles his kingdom, keeps him away from those as much as he can. Franceis is merely a symbol of their unity, clad in their colours and crowned with golden hair.

Charlemagne names him Franceis, so he remembers that he is free.

It is the most fitting it can be. The Kingdom of the Franks, now named after his own people. Franceis is proud of his Empire, of his King, of his people. He wears the name with pride, because there’s nothing else he can be. He is Franceis, the Frank. He is no serf. He is a nation and people should be the one bowing before him, for he is himself the Kingdom.

Franceis gains confidence with him, true confidence. He learns his true worth. He doesn’t consider himself to only be a pretty, fair-haired and skinned trinket. He is a Kingdom, an Empire. No longer does he thinks his worth is determined by the many gifts he is brought by favours-seeking strangers. Franceis is no longer a victory, but victorious himself; nothing in the world feels better than this.

He is an Empire, tiny and small, proud and  _free_ , sitting on a gentle giant’s shoulders. Not anymore is he just a lovely, golden kitten. Franceis has claws now, learned to fight like a knight. One day, he hopes to become as tall and fearsome as his Emperor and protector. Above all, he is happy to be himself.

His name is Franceis and he is free.

_Epilogue_

Charlemagne died years ago. Franceis remembers being at his bedside, the King, on his last breath, looking at him through the mist of death and old age. He remembered him; how could he have not? Franceis had held his hand as he passed, accompanying the Emperor into his last breath with a kiss to his forehead.

He looked barely three years older than the first time they had met. After spending so long together and learning so much with him, Franceis could barely believe what had just happened. Never had he been so close to another human. Death  _hurts_ , he could feel its burn all over his throat, into his lungs and his eyes.

But time passed. Now, Franceis remembers Charlemagne with the same admiration, and tender love behind it all. The father of Europe is long gone, but he will be remembered. His name is carved in history, and if no one else does, after a thousand years, Franceis knows he will remember.

But now, it is war again. Charles’ grandsons, disgruntled with only having received a third of the Empire each—Frankish customs—fight each other to control Europe. Franceis weeps to see the Empire will not last, aware that, as Western Francia, he needs to fight. Next to his Christian King, who shaves his head to show he submits to church, Franceis knows how wars are.

He will need to kill those like him.

But after all, to be free, one has to be alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Charlemagne: Carolus Magnus or Charles the Great, was the King of the Franks and Emperor of the Carolingian Empire or Occidental Empire. As described in the fic, he was a seven-feet tall man with a gentle heart. He couldn’t eat without his children—as numerous as twenty!—and basically was an all around maga cutie.
> 
> Carolingian Empire: Basically all of modern-day France but Brittany, the North of Italy and some of modern day Germany. It will morph later into the Kingdom of France and Holy Roman Empire, to the west and east respectively.
> 
> About Franks and hair, the Merovingian of the Salian Frankish—the first lineage of French King, actually—distinguished themselves from other Franks with long hair, as the rest of Franks cut their hair short. So… basically, long hair is royalty. Charlemagne is a Carolingian. And then you have the Capetian Kings. And then the house of Valois. France had like fifty fucking monarchs it’s hell.
> 
> Anyway, see you all next time. Just a warning, next fic will have more PTSD mentions, as well as some consenting nsfw between a fourteen years-old and a sixteen years-old hormone-filled teenagers. Nothing terribly sexualized—seriously more like innocent kids smooching because that’s adorable—but heed the warning.
> 
> I guess it shows but I had no ideas what the hell I was doing this time.


End file.
